


Landlocked Blues

by invective



Series: Writing Commissions [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/F, Forbidden Love, Gang Violence, Hurt No Comfort, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:23:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9137905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invective/pseuds/invective
Summary: The Ackerman and Leonhart families have been warring over the control of Maria City for years, their conflict only intensified by the events that happened nearly half a decade ago. Seeking compromise, the heiress of the former family decides that forming a friendship with the latter’s heir would be the best course of action. However, circumstances are never on her side, and Mikasa must decide who she’s really loyal to.





	1. Chapter 1

The way most people become part of the Ackerman family is by being born into it. Simple enough. Relatively painless (at least, for the people who are joining the family), but that isn’t to say that the gang is full of those who share the same blood. Adoption is a viable method of joining the family, but even that comes with having to perform the ritual.

In order for someone to join, the rite of passage is to slice the Achilles’ tendon of an unsuspecting passer-by. There are a multitude of ways to accomplish this, but most choose to hide under cars –– easiest way to avoid detection, not to mention simply being closer to the target in question. The reason for this practice has long been lost; the last anyone’s heard of it is that it was simply an act of bravery, performed in broad daylight.

It isn’t a murder, but it is an incapacitation. Something people can recover from. There is blood shed, but it isn’t senseless. It serves a purpose. It is a welcoming. Proof that those who are brave enough are worthy to enter the family ranks, first as a grunt, but as someone who has the potential to become more. Not that the family would ever allow that –– it’s all idealism, really.

Mikasa has never had to go through with it, though. She only remembers when Eren turned fifteen, and he’d been forced to go through with the act even though he had lived with her family since he was eight years old. He was a month younger than her, and she had bypassed the initiation by virtue of her uncle –– the very same uncle who took Eren under his wing when the boy’s parents were killed.

Perhaps ‘forced’ was the wrong word to use in association with his behavior, though. Eren was more than willing to do whatever it took to join the gang, desperate as he was to avenge his parents’ death. Even if it meant hurting innocent people.

At first, she had wanted to protect him from the ordeal. It was not something such a pure boy needed to do (though, perhaps, her judgment was clouded after having known him since infancy; there was nothing pure about Eren Yeager anymore). She had even proposed doing it herself to automatically grant him access into the family’s inner workings. Of course, she was denied. Not that Eren minded, anyway. He was eager to prove himself.

And he did, which was why three years later he was waiting with his adoptive sister to make a deal with the only other family as powerful as theirs in the entire city.

In her heart of hearts, Mikasa knows full well that Eren should not be here. He is volatile, angry, and dangerous. He should not be here, to help strike a bargain with the people who had his parents killed. But she still can’t force herself to kick him out, no matter how hard she tries. Is she weak for it? Her uncle might be disappointed in this fact. But she doesn’t care. She’s the heir to this family, as far as everyone else is concerned. Her word isn’t law yet, but it soon will be.

The succession crisis of the Ackerman family was no surprise to anyone, given the fact that the Leonharts have been gloating over it for the past four years. After their heads were murdered in an ambush, the family was slowly falling apart from civil war as different factions fought for control of the gang. They were one of the longest running syndicates in the city’s history, true upholders of ethnic succession, until gentrification on behalf of the aforementioned murderers began to threaten them.

Mikasa was the proposed heir of the loyalist branch, who believed that she had a right to succeed her parents by blood. Her greatest supporter was her uncle, and her greatest enemy was _his_ uncle. Kenny Ackerman had one foot in the grave, but that meant that he also had experience under his belt. Though Mikasa was originally supposed to have inherited leadership of the family once her parents passed naturally, there were many who currently believed she was too young to manage the entirety of the family’s operations by herself.

(She wouldn’t have, of course. She knew very well that the only reason Levi was supporting her was so that he could control her from behind the scenes. Maybe there was some good will in his aid, but the reality of it was that he wanted power. So that he could fix things. Which was why she didn’t mind.)

In truth, she agrees with her critics. She’s barely seventeen years old, forced into this role of pseudo-leader of her group. Civil war is brewing in voice only; arguments only do so much, but they can’t afford to be fractured in the midst of a rising conflict. With so much at the forefront of her mind, it’s so difficult to focus on anything in its entirety.

It all goes back to one place: the death of her parents.

Four years ago. Forty-eight months. One thousand, four hundred sixty days. She wasn’t present at the ambush, but maybe it’s better that way. All she can ever actually recall is Levi coming home, drenched in blood, hands shaking as he scooped her into his arms and wept into her shoulder. Mikasa wasn’t young (she’d seen far too many things a thirteen year old should’ve avoided; given her surroundings, though, this was inevitable) and she wasn’t stupid. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognized that something terrible had happened. That’s why her parents hadn’t come home with her uncle.

Though so much time has passed, she was never privy to the details of what really happened. Simply that they’d passed, because the Leonharts had reneged on their word and decided it was better to eliminate their competition rather than form a pact with them. As if they were so foolish to believe cutting off the head of a hydra was enough to bring down the other two remainders. They were a relatively new member of Maria’s organized crime, anyways. They had picked the wrong way to go about their growing pains, though.

Because, if Mikasa had her way, those growing pains would kill them.

She wasn’t always as bloodthirsty -- clearly shown by how calm she is now. There was no doubt she wanted her parents’ murderers dead, but she also had the innate ability to see the bigger picture. Aggression was more her cousin’s style. But vengeance is a natural response to having the two people who raised you and cared for you and protected you violently ripped from your life. It just so happened that Mikasa was far more controlled about her desire to avenge her family than Eren was. It must have something to do with age.

Eren was only eight years old when his parents were killed. His mother was killed by the new drug the Leonharts had introduced to displaced and lower-income families, referred to as ‘the serum,’ when she was hooked on it and eventually overdosed. His father, a well-known physician within the community, then took to decrying the drug and used his platform to provoke change. Naturally, the Leonharts were not happy about one of the most influential people in Maria taking action against them. So they had him murdered.

Eren was lucky that his family had ties with the Ackerman family –– that his father Grisha had once been acquainted with Mikasa’s grandfather, having helped patch up the family back when they got into skirmishes in search of territory. Now that they were effectively the largest syndicate in Maria, though, they did not require his services as much. Regardless of whether Grisha would be in their employ in the present, though, the doctor’s familiarity with Mikasa’s grandfather lead to Eren’s adoption. Had they decided to leave the boy, he would’ve no doubt been killed by the Leonharts too, if not snapped up and brainwashed to be one of their pawns.

He had held onto the pain of his parents’ death for nine years. No wonder he turned out to be such an angry individual.

Mikasa, on the other hand, lost her parents when she had accrued over ten years of age. She was thirteen, just barely reaching young adulthood. Though not old enough to have suffered through and endured such tragedy by any means, she had experienced enough in her short life that she was prepared for such an outcome. Grief was inevitable, of course, but she knew how to channel it into productivity.

It is more than likely that level-headedness that has allowed her to retain her position as heir. There is currently no regent in her place, and although she hasn’t formally been inducted as the leader of the Ackerman family, the title is, so far, all but hers. Her ability to channel mourning into abundance has left her at the very top, untouched, and only verbally disparaged. She can never be too certain that her position is secure, but for the time being she seems safe enough.

Given her current actions, however, she cannot be certain that this remains the case. Dissent has furthered, or so Levi tells her, over her new plan of action. Always a retaliatory bunch, it was no surprise that the family decided that retribution was the only offering fitting of the traitorous Leonharts. They had tried an extension of good faith before, and it had lost them two of their most powerful members. Logic dictated that they should respond in kind, if not further. 

She liked sayings, though, sometimes over logic –– and the one she hoped to prove best was “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” Without a doubt, if she didn’t put an end to the senseless violence and bloodshed, it would even go on for centuries. Levi seemed to bear no inclination towards letting up on the people who killed his brother and sister-in-law, and Kenny was more than likely crying for their heads at this very moment. No, only Mikasa saw the reason in trying to end it all with peace. They could blind each other later, but only when nobody who was innocent stood in the crossfire.

Her uncle would only acquiesce so long as she remained in power. He wasn’t nearly as volatile as her opponent, whom she knew had to be put down sooner or later.

Truth being, though, this meeting was her last chance to convince her men that this would be the best course of action. There had been other olive-branch attempts, mostly made by smaller gangs who had aligned with the Ackerman family for protection and high standing amongst the criminal underworld. Unsurprisingly, the efforts towards conciliation were taken with offense. What, the great Ackerman family needed their little vassals in order to send messages? Were the Leonharts not worthy of meeting with them face to face?

(Clearly not, if the fact that they murdered the past Ackerman leaders in cold blood was any indication.)

They had tried from bottom to top of the food chain. First, it was a small time group that was intended to make contact with an equally tiny Leonhart-associated gang. They were killed upon orders of the higher ups. Then, a slightly larger, more important syndicate tried. Not quite upper class, but they were more than just mooks slinging drugs on the street. Also killed, again by Leonhart request. At some point, Levi decided they just couldn’t risk any more people, and told her that unless she was willing to take responsibility for her intentions, then they would no longer be trying to achieve peace with a group that was, by all accounts, incredibly opposed to any endeavors of such similitude.

Mikasa has no doubt that Levi did not expect her to take his words at face value and offer to go and negotiate herself. It was an incredibly dangerous mode of action; there was the possibility she might end up just like her parents, Uzi’d to death and then left to have their guts spread around her like wings. But she wasn’t helpless nor stupid, and had expressed as much towards the council when they attempted to stop her from attempting anything of the sort. She could hold her own as well as any other of her men, and if it genuinely worried them so much, she would take someone equally capable with her.

(Eren was no such thing. He excelled at mediocrity, but that meant he would stay out of her way if things went south. He might need a little protection, but so long as he was the only other person who required it, she could manage.)

She lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her last chance. Final attempt. If this didn’t pan out, if the Leonharts went back on their initially positive word and tried to have her killed (worse yet, actually _had_ her killed), then it would be all out war.

Maria City has never seen a conflict so grand in years. Long gone were the days of gangs occupying whole streets, even residential areas, hiding behind vehicles and taking potshots at each other. Was it insensitive to say that this kind of conflict was more sophisticated nowadays? Perhaps. But it was the truth, in that people were discreetly killed rather than in the open, able to poison the minds of innocents. No longer were faultless shop owners and car owners victim to collateral damage from avoidable shootouts. If anything, the businesses and people who chose to align themselves with such moral degradation would be getting what they deserved.

She made her belief that both families had lost sight of what really mattered long, long ago. Maria City used to be a place that wasn’t welcome to the Ackerman family, long since an ethnically diverse community. Anti-semitism, racism, and xenophobia all in one fell swoop was what they had attempted to combat by creating a racket of organized crime, pitting them against those with privilege, and helping to elevate their community to their standards. Money was a surefire way to begin shaking off the shackles of oppression, and with narcotics and weapons trafficking among many of their various enterprises, they were well on their way to finding a path through ethnic succession.

Of course, equality was near impossible. But once they had reached a plateau, a possibly close-enough, the addiction of illegality was too much to stop. Rather than allowing others who sought the same things they had, money, equal opportunity, to achieve such things, a passing of the baton, if one would, the Ackerman family decided they liked power too much to let it go.

Then, gentrification set in, and the Leonharts followed it like a shadow. Former low-income neighborhoods, usually bases of operation for smaller Ackerman-related gangs, were being completely taken over by the Leonharts’ pale peers. Thus, the age-long fight was born. She still wonders, however, how much of the Ackerman desire to combat the Leonharts was really about protecting the small fry, and how much was really about being threatened by an up-and-coming gang.

In her opinion, they would not be remiss in retiring. The council had enough wealth put away to live a cushy life for the next three or so decades they had left. But, she digresses.

“You should really stop thinking so much,” Eren says suddenly. His dark-ringed eyes seem to have even more bags under the dim lamplight. Again, she is reminded why he should not have accompanied her here. He is tired, and when he is tired, he’s even more cranky than he usually is. It is a recipe for disaster.

She shrugs, a single roll of her shoulder. Tiny droplets of water fall from the sky, little pinpricks on her skin. Drizzling was always preferable to rain. She didn’t bring an umbrella. “I think you should start thinking more,” she retorts. “It’ll help you live longer.”

Eren scoffs, then turns away. He’s always needed to take a little bit to come back with a response. She counts on her fingers until he does –– at fifteen, he spits back, “ _You_ would live longer if you just gave up on this stupid idea. You think that after everything they did, they’d be _perfectly okay_ with just a friendly handshake? A ‘whoops, we screwed up?’ They nearly tore our heart out, and you’re sitting here hoping they’ll climb into the sandbox with you to build tiny soggy castles.”

“I’m not asking that we all hold hands and sing kumbaya,” she snaps. “That’s something _nobody_ would agree with. What I’m proposing is an armistice. Something to end the fighting. Divide the city into halves or quarters, or whatever it’ll take to keep them in their own territory and away from our people.”

“You forgot the part where you let them walk free.”

Arguing with him like this was always so infuriating, which is why she never really bothered to. Part of the reason he’s so rambunctious and can easily speak his mind is because she always nods and mumbles assent whenever she doesn’t feel like trying to convince him otherwise. It’s her fault he’s like this; she knows. But tonight, he needs to hold his tongue more than ever.

It was probably divine intervention that had the Leonharts willing to meet with her. The terms of this meeting were incredibly one-sided, to say the least, but the fact that they even accepted the invitation was surprising enough. A small voice whispers that it’s also likely that they value their envoy (whom she requested) so little that they would just send them straight to their death. More than a little disheartening. Also more than enough reason not to try to make amends with someone who doesn’t care at all about their people.

Exasperated, she rolls her eyes to the sky. It’s pitch black; light pollution won’t allow an inkling of the stars she used to love watching back when her parents lived in the countryside, when she was but a toddler and unexposed to the violence that punctuated her everyday life. “I’m not letting them walk _free_ , either. I’ll punish those who need to be punished. But if their family really is that large, then there would be no point in hurting the innocents who haven’t done anything wrong. The Leonharts have plenty of people –– some of them are probably younger than you and me. Should they be held accountable for the actions of their elders, especially if they don’t know any better?”

He always gets touchy with the subject of children, and usually that’s what brings him back to rationality. She hates to bring out that card, since she knows that at some point, it’ll lose its effectiveness. They are children too, after all, in many others’ eyes. Younglings who should not be bearing the brunt of the responsibility of a crime family that has existed for nearly a hundred and fifty years.

Her cousin grumbles and scuffs his feet. “Maybe not the kids. But the adults _should_ know better than to allow what happened. They’re as accountable as the people who did all the killing.” His eyes turn sharp, fierce. He’s remembering his parents again, and she needs to snap him out of it.

“We’ll deal with it all as it comes,” she responds. She knows the dismissive tone will irk him back into arguing with her, rather than the demons of his past. “Right now, the best course of action is to call off any and all fighting possible. Then, when all the dust is settled, we’ll make sure that everyone gets their due. Including us.”

He opens his mouth to respond, an indignant squawk on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t get the opportunity to form words.

The echo of footsteps halts their bickering. Mikasa moves from her position against the wall to stand near the center of the alleyway, eyes squinting through the dark. If this is indeed the person she was intending to meet, it seemed like they followed her instructions to come alone.

Again, the circumstances of their meeting was very lopsided. Mikasa was allowed an escort and one weapon between the both of them. Eren was insistent that he be the escort, but that necessitated Mikasa to be the one holding the weapon. Her Glock was burning into her side, having been pressed up against the flesh all night. Her own fault for leaning so heavily against the wall.

Eren tenses up beside her, and she calls him off, almost like a dog, with a wave of her hand.

The Leonhart who was supposed to come was instructed to come unarmed and alone. A clear recipe of an ambush, if it was anyone else offering such a meeting. All the more surprising that they listened. It’s a small sign of hope. A little inclination that the Leonharts might not be as bad as they seem.

She can never be too certain though, and barks out, “Hands where I can see them. And step into the light.” Her hand itches to hold her gun. It wouldn’t matter if the figure stepped into the light or not, if they were really armed. They could’ve killed her just as easily when they stepped forward. But her refraining from getting her weapon was a sign of goodwill. Hopefully, it would be one that is appreciated.

The figure scoffs a little –– high pitched, feminine, Mikasa notes –– and lifts their hands from their pockets. They take two quick step forwards, entering the ring of illumination the floodlight creates. For a second, it becomes difficult to recognize any features on the figure in front of her, washed in light as it is. She blinks several times to get used to the sudden intrusion on the brightness, and gives a slight shake of her head so that it clears her vision. As her eyes focus on the Leonhart, Mikasa tries not to suck in a sharp breath.

She’s the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie talks.

Annie has been in the business ever since she was a little girl. Moved from house to house since the Leonharts couldn’t find it in themselves to be free of enemies, she was practically forced into this life because of her inconsiderate relatives. She’s not the only person in this boat –– not by a long shot, especially given her similarly-aged cousins who have been in said proverbial boat for even longer than she. (Probably because they were boys. _Typical_.)

Nevertheless, as the only daughter of one of the most prominent council members in the Leonhart family, she took her duty very seriously. There wasn’t anything, in fact, that she _didn’t_ take seriously in her life. It made things very complicated, and efficient in equal measure. People tended to think that she didn’t understand jokes, when in reality, it was just that she seldom found things very funny.

One of her responsibilities as a future councilwoman is that she ought to maintain a good informational network. Her cousins were more the arms-dealing and extortion-slash-intimidation end of the spectrum, leaving the hidden work to her.

Again. Typical.

But she didn’t complain, because complaining was a one way ticket to an eye roll. Annie has learned from observation that the eye roll means that you aren’t going to be taken very seriously and that you’ll probably be informed that you ought to either get back doing your job ‘properly’ or just stay in the kitchen if you’re going to be uncooperative. So far, she hasn’t been uncooperative, so that means she’s gotten enough brownie points to pull the little stunts she’s been plotting for the past few months.

The truth of the matter is that Annie knows everything about everything. She’s remarkably good at wetwork, since keeping track of things with pencil and paper (however dangerous, and regardless of her father’s protests) has never been easier. People never believe her when she tells her the secret. Maybe that’s also another reason why she excels so greatly at her duties. Nobody believes her.

Nevertheless, Anneliese Leonhart is the one person in Maria City who knows everything about everything. Unsuspicious and unimposing because of her small stature, her ability to remain undetected by even the most dangerous of spies allows her the privilege of having basically everybody under her thumb. Politicians, corporate executives, you name it. She’s got dirt on them.

She rarely, however, partakes in field work. Relying heavily on a web of spies that are no more suspicious than she is. A majority of them are kids living on the streets, with prying fingers and equally prying ears. Always the last people adults believe to be their leaks, the information her contacts have amassed has served enough to keep the Leonharts afloat for about half a decade. Her predecessor, an old man whose associates had long since fallen out of favor with the people they were supposed to be trailing, was entirely too incompetent to remain within the family.

So they had him killed.

They were a ‘family,’ in the barest sense of the word. The Leonharts shared blood. Many cohabitated, living in households hovering dangerously close the double-digits at times. Cooperation was encouraged and expected –– necessary, of course, but they were never beyond hurting their own people if they thought their personal goals took precedent over the needs of the gang. But that was as far as it went. Beyond immediate family, they were, in reality, a network of business associates.

People who indulged in less-than-legal businesses for a variety of reasons. They viewed themselves as vigilantes. It was more lucrative. Or they were just plain evil.

(If one were to ask Anneliese ten years ago, she would’ve said the latter was the most accurate reason.)

A greedy folk who sought any means possible to achieve both power and wealth.

This was the reason their war started with the Ackermans, after all.

While originally a noble French family way back before the twentieth century was even a thought in a single soul’s mind, the Leonharts immigrated to England, and then finally to Ireland. They left during the mid nineteenth century, right around the time of the Great Famine, although there had been plans to leave the country beforehand anyways. They found themselves quickly rooted in the northeast, where the Leonharts tried to make honest livings as distillers.

And then Prohibition set in.

Moving from facility to speakeasy wasn’t exactly a difficult thing to do when one had fingers in the right pies, and eventually, they were able to return to the practice of making alcohol legally. Tied with the Irish mob (and some of the family even being members of it), they managed to live in relative obscurity.

Until somewhere along the fifties and sixties, they got a little avaricious. Emboldened by the post-war peacefulness and tranquility. It was then that the Leonhart family proper was born.

Decades of conflict later, here they are now. An hereditary oligarchy with a council of five, with considerably looser morals in comparison to their other Maria City crime lord counterparts. Not quite having gotten out of the mid-twentieth century mindset of the predecessors, as one could easily tell.

Annie doesn’t usually mind her family’s backwards behavior. Because she doesn’t talk back and does good work, those prejudices hardly ever apply to her. She’s free to do her work as she pleases, getting results and protecting the family. That’s all she really needs to do, anyways, until her father’s underlying heart condition caused by massive amounts of cholesterol acted up enough for him to consider training her to take his place in the event that he suddenly. and without warning, passes. It isn’t as though her older brother is going to be bearing that responsibility. Connor left the moment he fell in love with some random girl.

If only Annie were so lucky.

So her role in the family was one of deception. She was supposed to work behind the scenes, pulling strings and jotting dark secrets and compromising information down. Her position as her father’s only child aside, she was never intended for public consumption. The only people who ought to recognize her were the baristas at the local Starbucks and bookstore frequenters. She was a normal teenage girl who was deciding to take a gap year before starting college. That’s how the Leonharts operate –– with fictional urban personas. Makes it easier to have an alibi when you’re already seen as an upstanding citizen.

(Yet another facet of watching whiteness work, she supposes bitterly.)

Given this information, it was obviously something of a shock to her when her father and mother approached her and told her that the council requested that she be the one to help them make contact with the Ackermans. The latter had reached out first, of course, trying to seek some sort of peace, and the Leonharts were reluctant but eventually willing to ‘discuss’ those terms.

At first she wasn’t entirely sure what they meant. She wasn’t one for negotiation. She wasn’t sure if anyone in the family was one for negotiation. They had a tendency to settle their problems with bloodshed. A lot of it. But instead, this time around, they had come to her and asked her to be their emissary.

It was an honor, so her father said, to be the representative of the entire family. She would be the one possibly forging peace between years of war. A leading figurehead of kindness and generosity. She knew that this wasn’t what he meant. They never say what they mean.

Before she actually leaves, weaponless and thus feeling defenseless, they tell her that they want her to swindle the ever living shit out of the Ackermans. Aside from the fact that they believe a girl will get closer to Mikasa Ackerman by virtue of sharing the same sex (and at that, she has to audibly scoff), they also believe that Annie being a relative unknown to the public and the Ackermans as a member of the Leonhart family will make it all the easier for them to trust her.

They want the Ackermans gone. Removed from the face of the planet, if possible.

Annie doesn’t know why _she_ of all people is being given this task.

So she arrives at the meeting time. She isn’t too late, and is slightly annoyed that she didn’t have the foresight to bring an umbrella with her, because it’s starting to drizzle and doesn’t look like it’ll be letting up anytime soon. If anything, it looks like the precipitation will only be getting worse. Lucky her.

She’s dressed warmly in a leather jacket and jeans, with ankle high boots keeping her feet from getting wet. She avoids puddles as she makes her way into the alley, noting the single spotlight that shines down. Annie can make out two forms –– she’d expected as much; it was smart of the Ackermans to insist that the Leonhart come disadvantaged, given what happened to them previously. But they would never have known if the Leonharts would keep their word, so the whole thing is kind of preposterous.

The first thing Mikasa Ackerman says to her is a command. A stilted bark, as if she’s unused to demanding that people do things for her. Strike one, the mark of a bad leader. If anything, a leader is supposed to be confident, strong. They’re supposed to have a firm grasp on the orders they’re issuing, not a tentativeness that screams “do it, only if you want to.” Annie doesn’t feel inclined to listen to her at all. And she’s not sure she’s going to be able to fake a friendship with someone like this.

Nonetheless, she acquiesces with a snort, stepping into the light and raising her hands. It’s difficult to make out the features of her current business partners through the dark. The floodlight partially blinds her, making her squint through the illumination to even make out her surroundings. It might be the wind whistling past her ears, but she thinks she might’ve heard one of the two gasp.. Only once it’s apparently been ascertained that Annie is not a threat, Mikasa steps forward, also into the light, and offers a hand to shake.

Annie’s first thought is that Mikasa is an odd mixture of features. Not visually, of course. One would remark that she was actually very pretty. But it was the makeup of this prettiness that was amusing and somewhat perplexing to Annie. The girl had a noticeable scar on her cheek and a small, nearly imperceptible one on the bridge of her nose. Big, expressive eyes were framed under arched, angular brows. Her nose was small, almost buttonish, and her lips were just somewhere between plump and thin. They had a natural curl downwards, and her chin was rather pointed.

A mixture of severity and beauty. Hardness tempered by softness –– not so much that it was overtaken, but so much so that any scariness that might’ve been evoked from features that typically entailed an unfriendly scowl was practically erased. It was, again, amusing.

They shake hands for a brief moment. Firm, eye contact, one pump. Mikasa’s companion remains in the shadows, and it’s only after their boss’s sharp look and a turn of her shoulder that they move forward too. A boy, maybe a centimeter or two taller than Mikasa. Annie ought to feel tiny in comparison.

Instead, she’s busy counting strike two, another sign of a bad leader. Your men are supposed to follow you without question. They shouldn’t require two gestures in order to move their asses to do your bidding. They shouldn’t question it, let alone openly rebel. She wonders briefly if Mikasa considers this action an embarrassment as a testament to her ability to command her people. If she doesn’t, then that’s just another thing to critique.

“Thank you for coming,” Mikasa says, though the words seem more like a formality than anything else. “It means a lot that you’re willing to compromise with us like this.”

 _Oh, what is this? A Hallmark card?_ Annie bites back the words. She regrets letting her true emotions flit across her face for a brief second; she hasn’t been doing anything resembling fieldwork in a long time, so can you blame her? “The pleasure’s all mine. There are more than a couple of people in the family who think this stupid war is useless and that it’s been dragged on for far too long.”

Well, there probably _are_ , but she’s not privy to their identities, and it’s more than certain they’re not going to go out of their way to reveal themselves. They’re the minority and probably always will be. Perhaps people of better moral quality would feel bad for the trickery they’re enacting on an unsuspecting pair –– that’s actually debatable; the boy seems like he isn’t very trustworthy of Annie, which is smart of him –– but those people probably have looser attachments towards their family and are what society would construe as functioning, good people.

Annie is no such thing.

Mikasa nods, seemingly accepting her words. She turns and introduces the boy behind her. “This is my brother, Aaron.”

“Your bodyguard?” Annie says, and notes instantly the slight flash of indignation behind Mikasa’s eyes. A tell. Evidently, Mikasa Ackerman dislikes the implication that she’s incapable of defending herself. If Aaron could see this distaste, there’s a high probability that he would be offended. What, Mikasa doesn’t think him worthy of protecting her? Seeds of dissension to be planted in his mind, Annie supposes. Just another way to gut the Ackermans from the inside out. “Or just your brother, I guess. That’s fine.”

Aaron rolls his eyes, disinterest evident in his gaze. He doesn’t want to be here, evidently doesn’t approve. More information to be stored away later. Why a leader would bring someone unwilling to be with them as a secondary liaison (if not a bodyguard, what else would he be?) was beyond her. But maybe it was because Aaron was Mikasa’s brother. Family and all that. Who knows?

“I’d appreciate it if we got down to business,” Mikasa says instead. “We’re here to negotiate peace between the families. It’s better if we stay on topic.” She looks anxious –– her posture attempts to conceal it, crossed arms and mismatched feet, her right facing the wall beside her and her left pointing directly at Annie, but it doesn’t do anything but make her look like she’s trying to hide her nervousness. She has a thing or two to learn about body language. Annie could probably teach her.

(Wow, outrageous thought. She’s going to block that out now.)

“Of course,” Annie responds. Neither of them have any documentation to present, which doesn’t exactly spell out good things for an agreement of a ceasing of hostilities. Luckily, Annie has a photographic memory. Unluckily, Mikasa has no idea that the Leonharts have no intention of holding up their end of the bargain. “Where would you like to start?”

Mikasa purses her lips. “Districting. We know perfectly well how the Leonharts don’t like to toe the line, trying to edge their way into our territory. We’d appreciate it if you stop, and we’ll split the city sixty, forty.” The hardness of her eyes makes it clear: _sixty us_. “We keep out of your business, you keep out of ours. We have history in this city. We’d like to make sure it remains untainted.”

Harsh words. Annie can appreciate that. Maybe she’s misjudged her. “Fifty, fifty. There’s no need to be greedy, Ackerman. We can share.”

“Fifty-five, forty-five, or nothing else,” Mikasa says.

Ooh. Not one predisposed to bargaining. Not that it matters in the end, anyways. Annie could roll over and accept all of Mikasa’s terms, but that would more suspicious than rejecting a few of them. No Leonhart would ever allow themselves to be trampled all over like this. But agreeing with this compromise at least would give the Ackermans the illusion that they’re in control of this conversation. “Fine. In return, we want you out of arms. That’s our territory, and we’re planning to keep it that way.”

Both the Ackermans and Leonharts have Russian connections, and their shared patronage has led to a fair share of scamming on behalf of their foreign middlemen. They’ve had a few lessons to teach them, but the better way to be rid of the entire scheme is to force out the other party. Extortion, the family can live with. The Ackermans are better at combat; it’s better to draw from whatever businesses they can, because it isn’t very likely that they’ll be able to take out other ventures and bring them under their wing. Especially not that dim-sum place. Levi Ackerman’s favorite, if Annie recalls correctly, and she always does.

Mikasa considers this briefly. Aaron twitches, glaring daggers into his sister’s back. He wants her to say no, but she pays him no heed. She probably knows that looking back to get his opinion would make her seem weak. At least she’s conscious of _that_. “Deal,” Mikasa says finally, and Aaron looks like a taut bowstring about to snap.

If looks could kill… “We also want full control of the wine district. We’re fully aware of your history, but we have plenty of it there too. Gardening has never been our forté.” She notes the slight dissatisfaction in Aaron’s gaze. Again, negligible. All she has to do is win Mikasa over and her brother will follow suit. How odd that she’s never heard of him, though. Judging by the permanent angry scowl marring his features, though, she’s surmised the reason they don’t let him go outside very often.

There’s a brief look of consideration that flits across the other girl’s face. She doesn’t like it, and is considering the option of flat out refusing a demand, of how well that will sit with them. Annie fights back the urge to tap her foot impatiently. She doesn’t have all night, and these are supposed to be preliminary talks anyways. (Of course they are. No way would Mikasa Ackerman just allow this to be set in stone through word of mouth, only. What if one of them forgot? No, Kenny Ackerman and Levi Ackerman would never allow this to be the only course of action.)

Evidently making up her mind, Mikasa shakes her head. “I’m afraid that’s not something I can do,” she says. “We’ll be willing to offer up thirty-five percent of the cargo district instead.” That’s where the guns come in from, so it makes sense. If the Ackermans are going to back off from arms, all the better that they allow Leonharts easier access to them in addition.

Annie’s lips twitch. It’s a minute tick, a gesture of dissatisfaction, but one that comes and goes as quickly as a blink. “We’ll take it.” She pauses. “That’s all my end wanted to discuss before we put it all to paper. Anything else?”

Four deals isn’t exactly enough to constitute a truce; she supposes that their shared presence is enough to declare that they’ll be leaving each other alone for the time being.

“Actually, there is. We want you to stop dealing the serum to kids. In fact, we want you to stop dealing it at all.”

Ah, yes, the serum. One of the more controversial drugs on the market currently, both because of its users (which is an age range that spans several decades) and because it’s so strong. Which is, obviously, the reason why people like it. It’s enough to put people out for twelve hours. Annie wasn’t sure whose bright idea it was to start marketing it to minors –– freshmen in high school, really, and then their peers –– but it certainly did make them a lot of money. Kids couldn’t pay much, and their prices were low compared to what was offered to adults, but the accessibility of the serum made it an easy profit.

It ended up being one of the Leonharts’ biggest enterprises; she was a fool to think it wouldn’t be a topic they’d bring up. All of the criminal wealth was pooling _somewhere_ , and it was likely that the Ackermans would’ve wanted a cut. She didn’t expect them to want to get rid of it entirely. That was a call she couldn’t make alone. If she agreed, then at least, for a little while, they’d have to wait a bit before dealing it, once the Ackermans were dealt with. Killing their leader now was too obvious, and Kenny and Levi Ackerman in combination were altogether too dangerous for them to take on once the whole family was out for vengeance. Which was why she was actively dealing with them instead of shooting Mikasa outright. Pretending to be friendly only to incite rebellion, a civil war that would hopefully destroy the whole thing.

Sneaky, but effective. And taking the serum off the shelves was obviously a council issue –– and if she knows the council as well as she thinks she does (knows, she knows she does), they’ll probably say no. Might as well cut out that middleman as well. It doesn’t seem like a clincher, so she feels confident enough to answer on their behalf.

“You can’t really ask us to cut off the largest portion of our profit, Ackerman,” she responds. “I’m afraid we can’t stop slinging the serum. Maybe stop dealing to kids under sixteen, but I definitely don’t think we can stop it all the way. Has it been causing you any problems?”

“Yes.” Mikasa isn’t the one who spoke; it was her companion. Annie hadn’t taken much note of him –– why would she? He’s just a henchman –– but it seems that the topic of conversation as made his hackles rise. His fists are clenched at his sides, teeth gritting and eyes fiery. “It has caused _plenty_ of problems.”

“Then you should wean your men off of it,” she says dismissively. It’s an easy enough solution. “We can stop dealing to them, too, if you want. It’s really not that hard though. The detox may hit but after a week or two, they should be fine. We wanted it to be addictive, but it wouldn’t be impossible to get rid of. Just needs a bit of willpower.”

It evidently was not the right course of action.

“It’s hard to wean a dead person off drugs,” Aaron says lowly, “and who could ever tell their mother what to do, anyways?” Mikasa shoots him an apprehensive look. It’s not reprimanding, and it seems like she’s more concerned with his current mental well-being than anything else.

“Hardly anything. Especially if your dad also isn’t around to force her hand.” His eyes, a mix between hazel and gold, flare with rage. Barely contained, like it could snap at any moment. She could probably take him down, but it wouldn’t be a very good look if she did. “Hard for Maria City to recover when your dad isn’t there and his hospital staff is in shambles.”

All of a sudden, it hits her.

Annie’s eyes widen. Shit –– it wasn’t Aaron, it was _Eren_. The Ackermans’ little charity case. How could she have completely missed that? She underestimated the boy, that's how. The Ackermans had never referred to Eren as Mikasa’s brother before, and it makes sense –– he’s a Yeager, not an Ackerman by blood. She hadn’t considered he’d been adopted, and if he hadn’t, an unofficial one. It was slightly difficult to wrap the idea around in her head. To call someone unrelated to you ‘family.’ Friends, maybe, but never more than that.

Her mind races to find other ways to fix this, to chuckle and apologize and move the conversation forward. There’s so much more that she wants to arrange as further provisions for the Leonharts, more loopholes for them to abuse. She has a job to do, but it seems like this last statement might have cut this little project short.

Well. That’s one misstep she might never recover from.

Annie clears her throat. “I understand any personal stakes you may have in this, but the serum is still one of the biggest ways we make money, and ––”

“I think this negotiation is over,” Mikasa says, eyes narrowed.

Ah, fuck.

“We don’t have any intentions of working with you if you refuse to discontinue the serum, and this disinclination increases tenfold if you refuse to stop distributing it to all minors.” She speaks as though either of their occupations offer a sense of ethics. Like they’re ever doing the mostly-right thing.

Annie doesn’t have anything to rebuke Mikasa’s words with, not without sounding disingenuous. The Leonhart pride keeps her from scrambling to get back in Mikasa’s favor after a failed first attempt –– though, it apparently seems the Leonharts themselves will not be very pleased with this development.

At her silence, Mikasa, tosses her a disgusted look and spins on her heel. Somehow, even when pulling off such an ugly expression, Mikasa seems to be able to hold onto the impression of beauty. So ready she is, to turn her back on her pet project. Maybe it’s because of Eren’s influence. Annie remains silent, stricken.

Finally, she finds her words, “You can’t exactly stop us from getting the majority of our revenue, Ackerman.” Hoping to seem meek, she attempts, “The rest of our deal is still on, though, right?”

The absence of words is all that needs to be said.

“Mark my words,” Eren hisses as he stalks off, trotting behind his sister, “you’re going to regret this.”

Annie knows she will. It’s the first time she’s failed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikasa works.

Mikasa had been completely and utterly aware of how much they were expecting her to fail, and it’s with just as much disappointment in herself that she expresses to Levi that she did, in fact, fail. Unlike what Eren or Armin might’ve done, she doesn’t soften the knowledge with words, but instead tells him bluntly that the deal didn’t work out, and that Eren had actually threatened the Leonharts for noncompliance. As if he wasn’t aware of the fact that they were the underdogs in this situation, where the Leonharts could easily crush them if they wanted to.

Levi’s hooded eyes, which always manage to look nonplussed no matter what information he’s exposed to, merely blink. “I had expected as much,” he drawls, and that somehow seems to make Mikasa feel even worse. 

She knew full well what his intentions were, and yet he was also the man who helped take care of her after her parents passed. Always particularly distant, knowing he could never replace his sister and her husband, but caring nonetheless. Technically her backer, technically someone who was on her side, if only for his own personal reasons, but still family nonetheless. It did hurt, knowing that in some way shape or form, he didn’t believe she would succeed.

“However,” Levi continues, rising from his plush leather chair to walk over to her, placing both hands on her shoulders, “that gives us an opportunity to let loose. They may think we’re incompetent in terms of negotiation, but they also believe that negotiation is the only tactic we have left. A bit ambitious of us to make demands –– what else would you do, though, if you were on your last leg, and still proud? That means we still have an opportunity to redeem ourselves. As far as the Leonharts are concerned, we’re back here licking our wounds, trying to find some way to apologize. They could do without us, and they think we couldn’t do without them.

“They aren’t going to expect us to mount a counterattack. Luckily for _you_ , there’s a portion of the city that we’ve been keeping an eye on. It’s near the borders of Leonhart territory, but they’ve decided, for whatever reason, not to keep it heavily guarded. Quite a tactical disappointment on their part, a boon for us. I say we make good on Eren’s threat, take them on and make them regret ever denying those very, very simple terms.”

Mikasa swallows; this is the exact opposite of what she wanted. Although her whole plan of ‘making nice’ didn’t exactly work out, she still didn’t want to resort to backstabbing and other forms of violence, continuing the cycle. Even her parents had the same idea. Then again, it’s what got them killed. Maybe it was time to take things back by force. Lord knows it would at least keep the serum off the streets, and a happy Eren meant no broken things.

As if sensing her thoughts, Levi squeezes her shoulders, almost apologetic. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. If I had my way, everything would’ve worked out four years ago and we wouldn’t be stuck in this situation now. But they’re not going to back down, you know, that right? The Leonharts think they can take everything, that the world owes them something in return for fucking potatoes, and that it’s perfectly okay to ignore first come, first serve because of it. We made this place our own, and they just want to tear it from us –– well, they’ll have to do it from our cold, dead hands. The world isn’t ever what we want it to be, Mikasa. I learned that when I was young; it’s time for you to learn that too.”

She knows he’s right. Their line of work doesn’t usually end in mergers and peace and everyone getting their fair share. Anything involving guns doesn’t end until a higher power decides it’s time for them to stop –– and the fact that the Leonharts are run by a council rather than a single head means that agreement is probably never on the horizon for them. Even if one posited the idea of ending the conflict, it would have to go through several other people, who probably all had different stakes in the fight. They would never capitulate. So her attempt was the only solution they’d had, and it failed.

Might as well deal with the reality of the fallout –– retaliation. Better to strike first than be struck first, for obvious reasons.

And yet, she can’t stop thinking about the girl who came to them that night. Mikasa never caught her name, the girl never offered it. She had to be some sort of grunt, then, to find revealing herself irrelevant and time-consuming. Mikasa never introduced herself either, but that was because the Leonharts knew she was sending herself to broker the deal, and anyone they decided to send in return would surely know the fact.

The Leonhart council would never have to come to see her; they figured themselves too powerful to lower themselves to an Ackerman envoy, even if said envoy was the current Ackerman leader. But they also wouldn’t have sent the lowest of the low, because that would’ve been considered an offense and they weren’t dumb enough to do _that_.

But who was she?

She was pretty enough, Mikasa figured, but she looked like she belonged in a life like this. There was a hardness to the other girl –– a large nose that offset most of her other features, but enhanced her attractiveness rather than detracted it. Even beyond that, there was something about her, a aloofness, distance and detachment that made her seem like she didn’t really care as much as she really did. If Mikasa were an outsider looking in, she’d think the other girl was… cool.

Except, she’s not an outsider. She’s an enemy. They’re on opposite sides of a war, so there’s no point in admiring someone she’s supposed to hate. Even if the nameless girl was someone who seemed far better suited to this world than Mikasa herself, the knowledge would spell nothing but trouble. She might become a thorn in her side, after having been so thoroughly rejected by the Ackerman heiress.

She makes a note to task Armin with sending out some inquiries about the girl, just in case she becomes a pain in their asses somewhere in the near future. At the moment, though she’s more preoccupied with the idea that Levi’s set before her. Mikasa hasn’t been in the field for a long time, but to get back in it would win back whatever respect she lost by letting her plans fall through.

She needs to save face, so that’s what she’s going to do. She can’t have the others believing she was too temperamental to allow the negotiations she’d pushed so hard for to pass, because if there’s anything worse than thinking she’s too soft, it’s her enemies thinking she’s too volatile –– which, if anyone who knew her could attest, she was anything but.

Levi’s brows are furrowed as he watches her, arms crossed as he leans against his desk. He never comments on her elongated silences, instead preferring to observe his niece as she works through things herself. He must’ve realized there’s some sort of caution hardwired into her brain that doesn’t allow her to make any great moves without deep introspection. In many ways, she and her uncle are very alike. 

Perhaps that’s why he’s so intent on making sure she remains in power, and why he thinks he’ll have no problems controlling her when she’s there at the top. She wonders if he knows that she knows.

“Are you going to do it?” Levi says, finally. Must’ve gotten sick of her silence.

She looks up at him, and then nods. It would do her some good to get some fresh air, as well. “I will,” Mikasa says. “Let’s wreak a little havoc.”

––

Levi’s always right, and the absolute holds true even as she and Eren (with Jean and Marco trailing not far behind) go along the sliver of city that is right on the border of Leonhart territory. It’s a nice enough spot to be doing business, what with the nearby river and tourist shops lining the pretty view. That’s a good amount of people to be taking cuts from, although Mikasa is sure that the Ackermans would demand a much smaller price than whatever the Leonharts were holding over their heads.

The riverbank is empty for the time being, no tourist of Maria City ever wanting to wake up particularly early to take in the sights and sounds of the location. It was nothing but birds chirping weakly as they too struggled to awaken themselves. But Mikasa was more than awake –– arguably tense, but that was just her natural state these days.

Mostly, at this point, her mode of action is going door to door, speaking to any of the shop owners who are currently within their business at the time. Barely getting ready for actually opening, it becomes easier to pick them over to her side, since there aren’t any witnesses or random citizens to help prevent any sort of altercation into occurring. Many of the people selling things on the riverbanks are of the older generation, people who decided to relax in a not-that-competitive market, despite there being dozens of other stores selling similar wares along the entire street. People will duck into any shop with a friendly looking senior citizen to buy a keychain.

Which means they also sell a lot of keychains, and that’s some profit you’d be stupid not to tap into.

Most of them come willingly. It’s only a few exchanges of words, and they’re usually tempted by keeping a bigger cut than they usually get from the Leonharts, who demand forty-five percent of earnings –– the Ackermans’ thirty percent gets a lot more favorable response. The shop owners keep the majority of the money they make and the Ackermans get paid for their protective services. Those who agree must appreciate the fact that the Ackermans also provide reliable bodyguards, since it seems their Leonhart protectors are nowhere to be found. Maybe it’s because it’s so early. Well. Slackers never prosper.

There are some who hold loyalty towards the Leonharts, for various reasons Mikasa can’t fathom. The territory wasn’t originally Ackerman, it belonged to a smaller gang before the Leonharts swept in and took control. Probably for the best, since tinier syndicates rarely ever did so well with their extortion. They took, and there was no give. Bigger groups were smarter –– they knew that business like these were just as liable to get robbed as any other, and by offering protection in exchange for money, they would be readily accepted.

Because the Leonharts got there first, they were able to ward off any thieves a lesser posse would’ve let slip between the cracks. So Mikasa can’t fault them for denying her. If simple words can’t break them, then she has Eren to cracks his knuckles. Although there isn’t much difference between herself and her brother in terms of height, there’s still an intimidating quality about Eren. The unhinged look in his eyes, more than likely, is what causes them to capitulate.

There’s only one person who refuses to budge, and she really should’ve known better than to push, because there seemed like there was absolutely nothing that would convince the obstinate man of Ackerman superiority, arms crossed and scowl set perfectly on his face. It was the confidence of having the rest of the side of the street on her payroll that made her inner perfectionist absolutely need to have everyone in agreement.

This was a mistake, as it bought the store owner enough time for his original protectors to arrive, and none too happy. There’s only three people that show up, but they seem more than capable of taking care of Mikasa and her three companions. The largest of the Leonhart trio is a blond boy built like a monster truck. He’s all broad shoulders and muscle and there’s so much meat coiled underneath his clothes that they look like they’re ready to burst. The boy next to him is taller by a few inches, and the thin counterpart to the other’s hulk. 

In between them is the nameless girl, Mikasa’s mystery woman. She’s dressed more warmly than she was last night; her hood is pulled over her head and a denim jacket serves as her third layer of clothing. There’s a disinterested look in her gaze –– brief recognition flashes across her visage, then promptly disappears –– and she seems more content to just stare them down than actually do anything.

“What do we have here?” she drawls. As if she didn’t know. The lanky boy to her left rolls his eyes.

Mikasa can hear Eren rolling on the balls of his feet. The rustle of fabric as he puts his hands up. There’s absolutely no way she could resolve this peacefully, not when they’ve just been caught trying to sway the Leonharts’ backers and not when Eren’s nothing short of raring to go at them. Well, it wasn’t like she was expecting anything to go the path of least resistance, not after that little disaster she’d be better off forgetting.

The girl cocks her head, looking faintly amused. “You know this is nothing short of a declaration of war, right? Trying this shit was enough to put us on alert –– good thing we had that panic button installed in here, by the way –– and now, thinking you can… what? Take us? That’s going to do nothing but bring down a world of hurt on you Ackermans. Do you really think you could handle it?”

“Wouldn’t have tried it if I didn’t think so.” Mikasa tips her chin upward. A cocky gesture that makes the other girl tsk.

The Leonhart meathead cracks his neck. He must think the gesture looks intimidating. He looks to the girl for confirmation. So she isn’t as low as Mikasa originally considered her to be, if he’s waiting for a go-ahead before trying to bash their heads in. Could it be? Did the Leonharts actually decide to send someone of import to their ill-fated liaison?

Such a shame. Mikasa really doesn’t want this to end with spilt blood on this nice carpet, but she’s rarely ever gotten her way in such situations. Marco is decent enough at combat. He’s not quite suited for it, and is probably better off working a desk job than being on their side. What matters at the moment, though, is that he can hold his own. The disconcerted look on his face aside, it doesn’t look like Mikasa or Eren will have to be babying him. If anything, it looks like the job falls to Jean, not that the other would mind.

Someone lets out a muffled yelp behind her –– probably the store owner –– and the spike of noise is followed by the shuffling of feet. Good. She didn’t want any civilian blood on her hands. This was a display of dominance, but it wasn’t as if she was trying to assert it on the man himself.

No one is particularly sure who throws the first punch. No doubt when both go back to their respective heads (at least, she _hopes_ the Leonharts will be able to go back; it doesn’t look like Eren is particularly fond of easing up) that they’ll be pointing fingers at the other. It all ends up as a blur, anyways.

Eren, the daring young man that he is, goes straight for the blond. He’s got a good foot, give or take, of height against Eren, but that doesn’t stop him from nearly climbing on top of the man as they grapple. Mikasa doesn’t have enough time to watch the outcome of that spat before she finds herself ducking under a quick jab.

How very Vin Diesel, _Fast and Furious_ of them, to have the girls locked in a fist fight. The Leonhart is fast, a steely iciness in her blue-gray eyes. Mikasa would be impressed, if she weren’t so focused on trying to avoid lasting brain damage. The girl’s fists come in a flurry towards her face, but Mikasa finds an opening and drops and goes for a jab against the girl’s ribs.

She manages to dodge, but the hit still grazes her side, and the elbow she meant to jab in the center of Mikasa’s back loses some of its strength. The girl huffs and goes quickly to the offensive. Her knee comes upward and Mikasa does a quick flip backwards to avoid it.

She takes a moment to size the other up, loose in her stance. She’s always been more of an MMA girl, and furthermore just one who would do anything it takes to come out on top, but it seems the other’s a trained boxer. Her stance is very closed and guarded. The only reason Mikasa got an opening was because of their proximity. The Leonhart girl didn’t expect her to be so fast on her feet that she could sidestep her. If Mikasa were her, she’d have kept her distance. It’s the best way she can get any hits in, now knowing the other’s speed. She has yet to gauge her accuracy, and doesn’t get to analyze any more before she’s hoisted off the ground by a pair of burly arms.

The Leonhart girl takes that as an opening. She swings in close, but Mikasa tucks her legs in and kicks with all her strength. It ends up bracing against the other girl’s forearms, but it’s enough to ward off the attack so that she can wiggle her way out of her captor’s grasp.

Somebody behind her shouts, “Hey!” and the boy holding her suddenly grunts in pain. His hold loosens, and she twists in his grasp to dig a knee into his ribs. He lets her go, and she drops on the ground with a thud. There’s a brief sting as she lands awkwardly on her ankle, but she’s otherwise unharmed.

The boy twists around to look at who distracted him, and gets a face full of Eren’s fist. Before Mikasa can fully recover herself, another set of arms wrap their way around her neck in a headlock. For a brief moment, she had forgotten the other girl was there. Stupid of her, to ignore a threat that she had barely managed to abate. She coughs and struggles before sinking further downward onto the floor. It presses the arms further against her windpipe, but it also brings the other girl’s head closer towards her as she tightens her grip. Reaching around her, Mikasa smacks her hands against the girl’s head, open-palmed. The other lets out a strangled noise and releases her. She wobbles on her feet, dazed.

Mikasa uses the opportunity to throw a good left hook. It isn’t her dominant hand. The resounding crack as the girl’s head swings and her hands stick out in front of her to catch her fall.

The look on the other’s face is, were it not for the current circumstances, nor Mikasa’s own ethical feelings towards them, nothing short of comical. It looks as though she’s never been hit in her life. If she had, it had been very long ago. Mikasa usually likes knocking people down a few pegs, but there’s something about the devastation in the girl’s features that makes her a little uneasy. The ruckus around them seems to have stopped, and she takes a cautious survey around the room.

Both of the Leonhart boys have the same look of abject horror on their faces, as if they’d never expected a hit to land on their partner. Eren breaks the silence first by taking advantage of their surprise to start wailing on them. The action resumes, almost like someone’s pressed play on a paused video.

The girl screeches, almost inhuman, and lunges at Mikasa. She moves to grab her around the waist, and Mikasa moves with the hit, dodging any sort of lasting damage that might’ve made her winded by the movement. As they topple over, she swings her elbows down at the girl’s upper back. She makes contact, but it doesn’t seem to faze the other very much; it’s like she’s gone berserk. It’s all Mikasa can do to bring up her arms to guard her face. The other girl still gets a few hits in, and Mikasa knows she’ll be forming bruises by the end of the day. She manages to avoid a black eye, though, and twists with all her might to knock the other girl over. They’re dangerously close to a marble pillar along the wall of the store. If the girl were to throw her weight into flipping Mikasa over, she’d more than likely crack her head over it.

She grabs the girl by the lapels of her jacket and drags her upwards. Mikasa doesn’t want _anybody_ cracking their heads on any pillars, even if they are a Leonhart. The other girl tries to shove her, but Mikasa again falls with the movement. She plants her feet on the other girl’s midsection as she lies flat and flips her roughly. With some luck, the other girl won’t land on her head and break her neck. So much for safety.

Luckily for Mikasa’s conscience, she doesn’t. The girl sways on her feet. Disoriented is a mild way of putting her condition. Mikasa scrambles to her feet, just about ready to tell the girl to step down and take a breather. She has no intention of murdering anyone. Eren is gleefully beating the Leonhart’s compatriots to a pulp, but even he knows that _killing_ them is stepping over the boundary. Lethality needs to be authorized, first. War was brewing anyways; it was just a matter of how quickly they wanted to escalate it.

The girl again tries to lunge. This time it’s sloppy. Her previously guarded stance is nowhere to be found. At this point, she’s just hoping the action won’t be a swing and a miss. Unluckily for her, Mikasa’s just barely out of breath, and it doesn’t take much to twist her arm behind her back and dig another elbow into her shoulder. The girl cries out, and then drops.

Like a ragdoll.

The Leonharts turn tail and run –– that’s the only way to explain their behavior as the girl crumples to the ground. The boys stare with wide-eyed horror when she struggles to get back on their feet, and lunge forward to grab her. They haul her up by the arms and make quickly for the door, muffled curses following their every movement. The girl resists, though, kicking and flailing. Mikasa would think that last hit would put her out of commission, but it seems that she’s driven more by rage than anything else.

“The fuck are you doing?” she shouts. One of her eyes is beginning to swell, face red from the pummeling she took. Mikasa’s knuckles feel a little tender. The girl’s attempts to free herself from her two companions don’t exactly pan out, seeing as they’ve successfully managed to toss her into their car (headfirst, and even Eren has to give a little wince at the thunk of her hitting the opposite door) and speed off.

She turns back to her crew. While she’d been preoccupied with one person, they had two giants to take care of. Eren has a split lip, because he can never control his biting when he’s worked up. Jean and Marco look slightly worse for wear. She probably should’ve helped them out more, and she feels a twinge of sympathy as Marco presses tentatively against his right side and winces. She surmises, though, that they’re okay, for the time being. It becomes easy to forget that others aren’t always as good as taking and dishing out hits as she is. Something she apparently inherited from her uncle.

This wasn’t exactly the confrontation she planned out, but it _did_ end up working in her favor, so who is she to complain? Mikasa tosses her brother a look, and Eren shrugs. Jean and Marco look nonplussed. She supposes that she can consider this a job well done, then.

“Um,” the shop owner pipes up. Mikasa had forgotten he was even there. “How much did you want per month, again?”


End file.
